


Out of the Nothingness

by KatieNuss



Category: Batman (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Afterlife, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 11:53:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieNuss/pseuds/KatieNuss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after Young Justice series finale.<br/>Damian dies and finally meets Wally West, the friend that Dick Grayson never shut up about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Nothingness

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post on Tumblr:  
> http://qwoptime.tumblr.com/post/45739762984/damian-and-wally-torturing-myself-again

“Hello?”

No answer.

“Anybody there?”

His gaze falls, and he realizes with what he suspects is much less fear than is warranted in his present situation, that he can’t see himself. It’s strange, because everything else is bright, too bright, and really, his retinas should be frying right now. But despite the distinct possibility that he might be a disembodied head, if that, he isn’t afraid.

He’s unsure of his surroundings, definitely. It would disorient anyone if they couldn’t see or feel themselves. He looks down the bridge of his nose, only to realize there is no out of focus nose to be found.

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” he asks, and, still looking down, he raises his hands, elbows bending at ninety degree angles and palms facing up. “Huh,” he raises an eyebrow, because he’s pretty sure those weren’t there a moment ago, and he watches as the rest of his body comes into focus, standing—or is he lying down?—on pure nothingness.

It makes him think of another time when something similar happened, when he had been trapped inside the Helmet of Fate. “Nabu?” But he knows he’s not inside the Helmet. “Hellooo!”

As time continues to pass—or stand still, he honestly isn’t sure which makes more sense—he notices other things coming into focus. He realizes he’s in uniform, and not the janitor’s uniform he’d been forced to wear while working at the Flash Museum during that one summer vacation, but his Kid Flash uniform.

Under his feet (so he IS standing) too-green grass sprouts out of a ground that isn’t there, spreading like water from a flood. He wonders what kind of fertilizer is being used wherever he is, because it seems to be freakishly strong. He should probably look into the chemical content of the stuff when he figures out where he is—because anything that can cause exponential growth like that was likely toxic—and advise the grounds keepers or gardeners or whoever not to use it.

It could cause some serious problems if the kids got it into their mouths, and really he wouldn’t put it past kids to try and eat the stuff for some reason or another. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been dared to and actually eaten an earth worm in his youth. On a playground much like this one, in fact.

A swing set had materialized beneath a towering oak tree not fifteen feet in front of him, and a squeaking carousel was spinning slowly just out of the shade the tree provided, which was why he knew it was a playground, and why he figured kids would probably be around to eat dirt and catch freaky diseases from the super-fertilizer.

When it occurs to him he is capable of doing so, he tilts his head back, looking up into the nothingness where the sky should be. The not-sky has no color, and it’s not black or white, and he wonders how that could be. He knows there should be a light source, like the sun, somewhere up there (down there?). Otherwise, there would be no shade under the tree, and he wouldn’t be able to see anything.

Birds are chirping now, and he gives up on searching the not-sky for a source of light, instead taking the time to absorb the additions to his surroundings. There’s a stone wall surrounding the playground now, and he’s sure that it’s at least twice his height. The base of the wall is lined with shrubbery and colorful foliage that makes the lightest rustling sound as a gentle, chilling breeze blows past.

The tree is alive with those birds he’s been hearing, and he rattles off the half a dozen species he sees there, noting that several of the aviary creatures don’t belong in a climate like this. He wonders if there’s some kind of catnip for birds (birdnip?) in that tree, yet another thing he’d have to look into once he found his bearings.

He strides forward when one of the swings starts to pick up momentum, moving back and forth with no encouragement from any being or force that he can see. He stops a few paces in front of it, noting how plush the grass feels underneath his canary yellow boots.

A small body launches off of the previously empty swing and lands with nearly as much grace as a close friend of his—if only he could remember that friend’s name. The body is male, clad in black spandex under a red tunic that is embroidered with a familiar yellow ‘R’. A cape of the same yellow settles around slim, sturdy shoulders, and green gloves reach up to pull back a pitch black hood, revealing wild hair that was darker still.

“Who are you?” he asks, looking down at the boy who stands before him.

“You are Kid Flash, correct?” the adolescent asks, the whited out lenses of his domino mask staring up into Kid Flash’s face.

“…Yeah.” He answers, not having realized until just now that he _is_ Kid Flash. Despite knowing the uniform he wears is his, he somehow hadn’t put it together, and he thinks that’s strange.

The boy in the yellow cape sighs as though he’d been dreading the answer Kid Flash had given him. But, the upward turn of his mouth suggests something different. “Grayson never shuts up about you.”

Grayson, _Dick_ Grayson, the close friend who he’d been reminded of. His best friend, who used to wear a yellow ‘R’ just like this kid does. A breath catches in his throat and he’s overwhelmed with regret and it’s the first thing he’s really _felt_ since he’d noticed his own existence.

“I have tried, many times, to force him to do just that, but he refuses to obey.”

“Who are you?” he’s struck by how wrecked he sounds all of a sudden.

“Robin, obviously.” The boy in the yellow cape scowls, clearly frustrated by the lack of recognition he’s receiving.

“No, I mean—” but what does he mean?

“I am Damian Al Ghul Wayne. I am Grayson’s former partner.” A line forms in the skin of Damian’s forehead, just above the right side of his mask, and Kid Flash decides it’s because he’s raising an eyebrow.

“But…Tim Drake is Robin, and…Robin is Batman’s partner, not Nightwing’s,” Nightwing had never had a partner, not a permanent one, anyway. Sometimes maybe Kid Flash was his partner, but never for more than one mission at a time.

Damian’s jaw clenches and Kid Flash can hear his teeth grinding. “I suppose you cannot be blamed for your out dated information, but Drake is _not_ Robin anymore. When Grayson became Batman he chose _me_. _Not_ Drake. We were the best.” There is the slightest quiver in his voice. “But not anymore.”

“Why not?” his throat feels raw, and though he tries he can’t suppress the overwhelming guilt he feels thinking about Dick.

“Because when my father returned to his place as Batman, Grayson had to resume to his duties as Nightwing, and lead the team you were once part of.” Damian clenches and unclenches his fists, and Kid Flash can hear the dark green leather groan in protest. “He was needed by your former teammates. Tigress in particular was adamant he return.”

Tigress, _Artemis_ , Artemis _Crock_ , the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, his girl, his _spitfire_. He feels sick to his stomach because he knows he left her, though he doesn’t know why he would ever leave her, or leave Dick. “I should be there, too. Helping them.” He realizes, crossing his arms under his chest.

Damian gives a ‘tt’ and a scoff. “That is not possible, West.”

West—Wally West—that’s his name, isn’t it? “Why not?” he sounds like a lost child and he finds himself embarrassed, because he’s clearly the older of the two.

Damian raises his eyebrow again, the corners of his mouth pulling into a frown. “Because they are living. And we are not.”

He stops breathing and suddenly he knows where he is, what’s happening. He remembers dying—

_“Artemis is gonna kill me for this,”_

And he remembers the exact moment where he ceased to exist. The way everything around him had simply faded into nothingness, and the way he just _stopped_ being.

“West…?” Damian tries, not sure what to make of the red headed speedster in front of him.

Wally remembers to breathe again, not sure why he even needs to, and he knows that he’s dead. He knows why he left his best friend, and why he left his spitfire. He hadn’t had a choice.

But he had made the choice to _stop_ being, to ignore his own existence until somehow Damian had awoken him. “Were you looking for me?”

The boy in the yellow cape hunches his shoulders, and looks so small for a moment, so unsure. “Grayson never shut up about you. He said that when he died one day, he knew you’d be here waiting for him. I merely sought to prove or disprove his theory for myself.”

“You’re afraid.” Wally’s voice is still rough, though it isn’t uncertain.

“I am unfamiliar with death, obviously. But I am not _afraid_.” He stares up at Wally indignantly, before dropping his gaze to the ground. “I simply wished to test Grayson’s theory and possibly meet the person that my mentor… _brother_ …has always spoken so highly of. Nothing more, because as I have said: he _never_ shuts up about you.”

Wally exhales shakily, and speeds over to one of the two available swings, plopping down into the flexible rubber seat, and wrapping his fingers around the silver chains. After a few moments pass, Damian follows his lead. “Tigress talk about me, too?”

Damian nods, staring straight ahead. “Only sometimes, but it is still rather annoying. She mentions seeing you again, as well.”

“What do they say?” Wally grins, wondering what they could have possibly said about him to make a boy who obviously inherited the Bat’s love of his fellow man want to seek him out.

“That you were annoying, and loud, and thought you were far more amusing then you actually were.” Damian rolls his eyes, and Wally registers that the kid had taken off his mask.

His eyes are blue, and though he immediately sees Bruce in his features, Dick is shining through the boy’s eyes. It’s obvious how much of an impact his best friend had had on this kid before he’d died and ended up in this weird place. “But…Grayson says that you were the best friend he’s ever had, that you were more loyal than any dog and that you kept him in check when he lost sight of what was right. He says that he never trusted another person more than he trusted you, with the obvious exception of my father and myself, and unfortunately _Drake_.”

“So you sought me out because…?”

“Based on what Grayson says, you are…trustworthy. And I am in unfamiliar territory.” Wally thinks that translates to something like: I’m scared, and I need a friend.

“Well, honestly I don’t know much about this place, either. I’ve been…asleep, for however long I’ve been here.”

“Five years.”

“Five…” Wally takes a deep breath, again wondering why he needs to breathe in the first place. “The point is, we can figure this place out together. You know, if you’d like to do further research on Dick’s theory about the afterlife.”

Damian opens his mouth, closes it again and opens it once more. “Yes…I believe further research would be an acceptable way to spend my time.”

“Well ok then.”

Wally smiles, and decides he’ll keep an eye on Damian while he waits for Dick and Artemis to join him wherever he is, and Damian can keep him from going to sleep again.

He wouldn’t want to disappoint them.


End file.
